


We Shouldn't

by DoMeCarisi (orphan_account)



Category: Law & Order: SVU
Genre: A wee bit of smut, Angst, Case Fic, Comfort, Depression, Detectives, Drama, Easter Eggs, Emotional, F/M, Falling In Love, First Person, First Time, Friends to Lovers, Heartbreak, Hurt, Injury, Jealousy, Lots of Food, Love Confession, Misunderstandings, More angst, Mutual Pining, Original Character - Freeform, Original Female Character - Freeform, PTSD, Slow Burn, Trauma, Violence, canon-typical discussion of rape and assault, noir, police work, semi-public sexualness, this fic is a total fucking disaster
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-16
Updated: 2017-03-17
Packaged: 2018-10-06 09:06:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 19
Words: 16,313
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10331222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/DoMeCarisi
Summary: Emily Bennett is a young, inexperienced detective when she transfers to the Manhattan Special Victims Unit. Emotional and impulsive, she struggles to earn her place in the squad while handling a difficult situation at home and trying to ignore the growing affection she feels for her partner.





	1. Chapter 1

**PART ONE**

Dodging the other morning commuters, my shoes slapped the wet concrete as I rushed down the busy sidewalk. Pulling my coat over my hair to shield from the pouring rain, I glanced down at my wristwatch.

_Quarter past eight._

I was late.

_Fuck._

I had been up all night and my eyes burned with exhaustion as I raced up the precinct steps. Bursting through the station doors, I ran to the elevator, pushing past a crowd of uniformed officers who grumbled under their breath. I slid in before the doors closed and finally exhaled.

The elevator began to climb as I straightened my blouse and shook the rain from my coat. I may have been off my game, but I wasn't going to miss my fresh start.

_Almost there._

The doors opened with a ding, revealing a busy office amid exposed brick, low hanging lights and ringing phones. I took a few steps forward as officers processed walk-ins and perps in cuffs were escorted to the cage. Maps, flags, and plaques adorned the blue walls alongside vintage New York art deco details.

As my eyes fell on Manhattan Special Victims Unit in large silver letters on the wall, I took a deep breath. Relieved I had reached my destination.

"Whoa, it must really be coming down out there."

The thick Staten Island accent to my right whipped me out of my reverie and I turned to face it, pushing a wet lock of hair behind my ear.

"You're soaked!"

"Wow, are you a detective or something?" I replied with more annoyance than the remark called for, quickly looking him up and down. He was tall and slick in a well-tailored grey suit.

"Dominick Carisi Junior," he said with a wide grin, extending his hand. "Call me Sonny."

I'm sure the dimpled smile worked on other women, but I wasn't charmed. I'd been around plenty of cops like him before. Loud and immature and always needing attention.

"Emily Bennett," I replied. "Now if you'll excuse me."

Turning to leave, I stopped when I saw Lieutenant Benson approaching us.

"Carisi," she said, an amused look on her face and a case file gripped in her hand. "I see you've met your new partner."

Sonny looked sheepish. I sighed.

Partners.

Of course.

 

\--

 

We'd barely finished introductions with the rest of the squad when a call came in. A 20-year old woman had been found raped and badly beaten in Central Park South, one block from Columbus Circle. Sonny and I were immediately dispatched to Presbyterian to take her disclosure.

"So, homicide, huh? That's a good gig if you can get it," Sonny said as we walked through the hospital, past the reception desks and bursting waiting rooms. I had to keep a brisk pace to keep up with his long strides. "What made you switch?"

I don't tell him that I couldn't hack it. That I'd seen enough dead kids and blue bodies face down on cheap motel sheets. How I started seeing killers when I walked down the street. Blood and terror every time I closed my eyes.

"My CO saw there was an opening and recommended me for it," I said. "Thought I could make a difference here."

"You ever work with a rape victim before?"

"Uh, I took a few statements when I worked patrol," I replied, trying to conceal my self-consciousness over my lack of experience.

"Well, it can take some getting used to. They definitely don't prepare you for this at the academy," he said, swinging the exam room door open. "Just watch for now."

 

\--

 

A fluorescent light hummed overhead in the small but functional examination room. The young woman sat on the edge of the exam table dressed in a hospital gown, blood crusted along her jaw and leaves tangled in her dark hair.

"So, what do you remember?" Sonny asked, pen in hand, poised to take notes.

"I already talked to the cops and told them everything," she replied. Her voice was quiet and hoarse, and I noticed the deep purple bruising on her throat.

"I know, and I'm sorry to make you go through this again," Sonny responded patiently. "But we need to hear this from you."

She nodded, taking a deep breath. She looked so small.

"I was walking home. I had been at a friend's house, watching a movie," she swallowed hard, shaking her head and fighting back tears. "I knew I shouldn't be walking alone in the park that late."

"It's okay, it's not your fault Heba," Sonny reassured her, his expression gentle. "Now, do you remember what time this was?"

"I don't know, 2 maybe?"

"2 o'clock? Are you sure?"

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure," she responded, looking up at him and nodding. A group of nurses walked down the hall, their excited voices barely muffled by the thin door between us.

"Did you see who attacked you? Or maybe someone following you?"

"No. I was just walking, and then I was on the ground," she said, looking down at her feet. "I can't remember anything after that."

"Did you have anything to drink at your friend's house?" I asked. Sonny looked over at me cautiously.

"No," she said.

"Are you sure?" I persisted.

"Even if you did, that's okay," Sonny said, stepping in. "We just need to know what happened."

"No, I don't drink. We just watched a movie. That's it," she said, firmly holding her brown eyes on me and crossing her arms over her chest. "I didn't do anything wrong."

Something wasn’t adding up. "What about-"

"Hey Bennett, how ‘bout you go get us some coffee?" Sonny asked, cutting off my question. My stomach dropped. Two minutes into my first interview and I already screwed up. 

I nodded and turned to leave, the embarrassment plain on my face. As I reached for the door, there was a knock.

"Sorry to interrupt detectives," the nurse said as she stepped in. "But the SANE is here. She needs to begin the examination."

 

\--

 

"A word of advice," Sonny said as we walked through the waiting room toward the exit. "It's an interview, not an interrogation."

"Yeah," I replied, stuffing my notebook into my pocket. My head pounded and I wished the day was already over. "I really messed up back there."

"Nah, you did okay," he said as he opened the door. "You shoulda seen me on my first day."

It was small but it helped.

"Look, let me tell you what the Lieu told me when I first started," he said as we stepped into the empty hallway. "Our job is to get the facts and make a case that the DA can prosecute. But more than that, we're here to give victims a voice."

I looked up at him. His eyes were sincere.

"Just remember that and I know you'll be fine."


	2. Chapter 2

"Well, that was pointless," Sonny sighed, his breath ghost-white against the grey day.

I kicked clumps of snow from my shoes. “No kidding.”

With no other leads, we had been out in the NYC streets all day knocking on the doors of apartments facing the park. If there were any witnesses to Heba's attack, they weren't talking.

"Well, there's a bunch of commercial spaces on this block. I'm sure most of them have security cameras. The streetlights, too. Look," I said, gesturing toward the intersection. 

"Could be worth a shot," Sonny replied, pulling up the collar of his dark wool coat and quickly rubbing his hands together in an attempt to warm up. “We could get a subpoena.” 

Tired of being out in the cold, I convinced Sonny to call it a day and head back to the station. Earlier we had picked up some meatballs and lasagna at Sant Andrea Cafe (Sonny was quick to tell me it doesn't compare to his ma's, but "it will do”) and I was hungry.

Trudging through the slush down West 59th back to the car, careful not to drop our to-go orders, Sonny shared stories about growing up. He told me how he used to love taking the ferry to Manhattan as a kid to come to Central Park. Ice skating in the winter with his sisters. The zoo in spring. Softball in the summer. I appreciated hearing his stories. It meant I didn’t have to talk.

Approaching the car, we caught sight of a homeless man sitting on a bench, hunched over a paper cup of coffee. Wearing black gloves and a grey sweatshirt, the hood pulled up.

"Hey, how's it going?" Sonny said, walking up to him. He didn't respond or even look up.

"You in this park often?" Sonny continued, undeterred. The man nodded, rotating the cup in his hands before taking a drink.

"How about two nights ago? Were you here all night?" Sonny asked.

"What do you want?" The man looked up at us with small, light blue eyes and a beard of gray straw.

"A young woman was attacked in the park," I said. "We're trying to figure out what happened."

"Two nights ago?" he responded. His voice was deep and rough, like an idling Chevy. "Yeah, I was here."

"Did you see this girl that night?" I extended my hand to show him Heba's picture on my phone.

He glanced at the photo. "No, didn't see her."

Slipping my phone back into my pocket, I looked over at my partner.

"That's okay, we appreciate your help," Sonny said, handing over his card. "If you do hear anything about an assault, be sure to give us a call."

The man took the card, turning it over once then quickly tucking it in his pocket. "Is she okay?"

"Yeah," Sonny said. "She'll be alright."

The man nodded and looked back down at his cup. I took a step to leave, but Sonny stayed in his spot.

"Hey, you hungry?" Sonny asked. The man shrugged and looked down at the fraying edges of his jeans.

"Alright," Sonny said, placing our lunch on the bench next to him. “I hope you like Italian.”

 

\--

 

The subway lurched forward as it pulled from the station and I tightened my grip on the pole. Speeding down the darkened tunnel, I caught my reflection in the window. I looked tired. Ragged. Dark circles and a drawn face framed by limp hair.

It was true, I hadn’t been sleeping well. Adjusting to this new position was a challenge I wasn’t prepared for. After investigating murders, I thought that sex crimes would be easier. A relief. But this kind of trauma had a different way of getting under your skin. 

And things at home…

For a moment I considered getting off one stop early and going to the bar just to avoid the mess. The inevitable screaming match and slamming doors. The red eyes and accusations.

I thought better of it and instead distracted myself by scanning the faces of the other passengers, bundled in their winter gear, overstuffed parkas and long scarves. Focused on their phones and books, quietly commuting home and decompressing from their day. I idly wondered what they had waiting for them at the end of the tracks. Families happy to see them. Big plans for a first date. A quiet night to themselves.

The familiar vibration in my pocket pulled me from my thoughts.

“You did really good today – S”

After my screw up with Heba a few days prior, I couldn’t help but smile at his acknowledgment. I reread the five simple words a few times before slipping my phone back into my coat.

Yes, he could be too direct at times. But he was sensitive and smart, too. And way more patient with me than I deserved. 

I had to admit, he was growing on me.


	3. Chapter 3

"You got any plans tonight?" Rollins asked, packing up. The squad room was dark and we were the only two left.

"Just the usual," I said, nodding toward the stack of forms piled on my desk.

The paperwork was overwhelming and I was putting in extra hours to stay on top of it, often the last to leave at night. Handwritten statements. Memos, requests, and incident reports. Sign-out forms and daily activity logs. You can romance police work all you want, but at the end of the day, it was mostly paperwork.

"Well, Jesse’s with the sitter and I was thinking about getting a drink. You care to join me?" She looked at me expectantly, wrapping a scarf around her neck before shrugging into her coat. 

I was sure it was just a means to size me up, but I accepted anyway. I wanted out of the office but I wasn't ready to go home yet.

 

\--

 

She took me to an old cop bar, two blocks from the station. The kind of place with cheap domestic beer by the pitcher, stained glass mirrors, and police memorabilia on the walls. We took a seat at the dimly lit bar, Rollins giving a familiar nod to the man wiping it down with an old rag.

We got our drinks and sat uncomfortably in silence for a few minutes before she turned to me, face lit up in red from a nearby neon Miller High Life sign.

"So, how you liking SVU so far?"

The question was innocuous enough, but I chose my words carefully. I smiled and told her I was enjoying it. That I appreciated the camaraderie of the squad, and the opportunity to make a difference.

I didn't tell her that I still felt like the odd one out. That I felt I wasn't progressing fast enough or that no one took me seriously. I didn't tell her that I was so thankful for her invitation no matter her motivations because I couldn't stand choosing between being alone at the office or alone at home.

"And what about Carisi?" she asked.

"Oh, uh... He's great. I mean," I started to pick at the label on my beer, hoping the rush of blood to my cheeks was hidden by the red light. "He seems like he really knows what he's doing."

"Yeah, he does," she nodded. "He's one of the good ones, you know."

I raised my eyebrows. "Is that right?"

"Don't get the wrong idea," she said, straightening up on her stool. Eyes serious.

"After I had Jesse, I don’t know what I would have done without him,” she said. "He really helped me out, even though he didn't need to."

I couldn't say I was totally surprised. The two of them seemed close. 

But why did that bother me? 

Rollins drained her drink as she eyed my empty bottle. “Another round?”


	4. Chapter 4

Scrolling through endless reports on ViCap, I took a sip of my long-cold coffee. It had been two weeks since her attack, and with almost nothing to go on for Heba's case, I wasn't hopeful we'd find a match. But it was still worth a look.

"Got the toxicology back," Sonny said, rolling up his sleeves as he sat on the edge of my desk. "Heba's blood alcohol was 0.2."

"So, she was lying," I responded, slightly vindicated. I leaned back in my chair, tossing my pen onto the stack of case files crowding my desk.

"Let's not jump to conclusions" Benson said, approaching us as I straightened up in my seat. "And where are we at with the rape kit?"

"I just heard back," Rollins said. She put down her phone, rising from her desk.

Benson looked at her. "Please tell me some good news."

"We got a hit on the DNA," Rollins said. "28-year old Garrett Wagner. Current address is in Hell's Kitchen."

The name was familiar. I opened up a browser and started typing.

"Hell's Kitchen? That's close to where our vic was assaulted," Fin said, turning around in his chair to face us. "What’s he in the system for?"

"Aggravated assault, two years ago," Rollins replied. "And get this. The vic? Heba Almari."

"And she didn't mention any of this during her interview?" Benson asked. Moving her hands to her hips, she looked directly at Sonny.

"No, she didn't," he said, standing up. "So, what are we looking at, a possible stalker? Has she filed any other police reports?"

Before anyone could answer, I called the Lieutenant over to my desk. As she leaned down to look into the monitor, her eyes went wide. She was looking at Heba’s Facebook page. Specifically, a photo of her and some man, arms around each other and smiling. According to the tag, his name was Garrett Wagner.

"When was this posted?" she asked.

"Two days ago."

"Fin, Rollins. Get Garett down here, now," she said, standing up to address the group. "Bennett and Carisi, go talk to Heba. Let's figure out what's going on."

 

\--

 

Heba lived with her parents in an expensive brownstone in Lenox Hill. The sort of place with a charming antique front door and gleaming herringbone floors, original art on the walls and lots of natural light.

"Heba," I said, taking a seat next to her on the cream colored couch. She looked so different. No more blood and leaves and harsh hospital light. Instead, she was well put-together, in expensive clothes and a tan scarf around her neck to hide the bruises. "We need to talk to you about some things that have come up during the investigation and you need to be completely honest with us."

Sonny cut to the chase. "Do you know a Garrett Wagner?"

Heba's eyes widened and she looked down the hall, toward the kitchen where her father was reading the paper.

"Let's not talk about this here," she said quietly, getting up from the couch and leading us up the narrow stairs to her bedroom.

 

\--

 

"Is there something you need to tell us?" I asked as I shut the door behind me. Her room was big and bright with framed photos of her friends on the walls, an old white fireplace and large windows overlooking the street. She stood in the center of the room, looking down at the floor and nervously chewing on her fingernails.

"Garrett is my boyfriend," she admitted. "We've been together for awhile. But my dad doesn't know, and he can't know."

"And the assault on you two years ago?" I asked.

"That was a misunderstanding," she waved her hand, sitting down on her bed. "We got in a fight. My dad overreacted and called the cops."

"And what, you've been dating in secret ever since?" Sonny asked.

"Yeah, pretty much."

"Well, we saw your post on Facebook," I said. "That doesn't seem very secretive to me."

“My dad is 67 years old,” she replied. “He doesn't even have an email address."

"Okay. Did you see Garrett the night of your assault?" Sonny asked.

Heba looked up at us hesitantly. "Yes, I was at his apartment. In Hell's Kitchen."

"Did you have sex?" I asked.

"Excuse me?"

"Did you have sex with him that night?" I repeated. "Heba, you need to be honest with us. We can't have anymore surprises."

"Yes, I did. But he wasn't the one that raped me. We love each other," she replied. She grabbed a pillow, pulling it onto her lap and hugging it tight. "Look, I'm sorry I didn't tell you earlier. But like I said, my dad can't find out. He hates Garrett."

I nodded. "Is there anything else you can tell us?"

"Yeah, there's one more thing," she said. "I had on a necklace that night. I didn't tell you at the hospital because I had forgotten with everything going on. Silver with a crescent moon."

I gave Sonny a quick glance.

"It's gone," she said, moving her hand up to her neck. "I don't know if it fell off or if… he took it."

"Okay, that's good. We can use that," Sonny said, writing in his pad.

"I really can't talk about this anymore though," she said. "My dad is probably wondering why we're up here."

"Alright, that's enough for now," I said. "But if you remember anything else, be sure to call us."

 

\--

 

The cold New York City air stung my cheeks as we walked down the front stairs of the townhouse toward the car, our steps muffled by freshly fallen snow. Naked oak limbs reached across the white, featureless sky.

"So, the necklace," I started. "CSU didn't find any jewelry at the scene."

"He could have taken it," Sonny responded.

"Like a mugging?"

"Or a trophy."

"I don't know," I opened the car door and shook my head. "This whole thing is strange. I mean, she's not the most credible. Her story is completely compromised."

"You heard her in there. She's terrified of her old man."

"So you believe her?" I asked.

He turned to me. "Yeah, I do."


	5. Chapter 5

I couldn’t get the case off my mind.

Fin and Rollins corroborated Heba’s account of the night with Garrett and his roommate, but we had no new information. There was nowhere left to go. There was only one DNA profile found in the rape kit and while there were traces of lubricant from the condom the rapist used, it wasn’t especially helpful. We had no other physical evidence. No witnesses.

No leads.

Flicking on the light as I entered my apartment, my chest tightened. It had been a few weeks since he left, but I still wasn’t used to it. I was glad the fighting was done and the worst part was over, but coming home every night to the dark, empty apartment was hard. Empty shelves. My favorite chair, gone. Records divided up. Photos put into boxes and buried in closets.

Exhausted, I took off my gun and badge and placed them on the kitchen counter with a satisfying clunk, then stripped off my clothes. Ignoring my phone as it started to buzz loudly in my coat pocket, I opened the fridge, already knowing it was empty.

_Chinese take-out it is._

I closed the refrigerator door and reached my arms over my head. As I stretched, I tried to remember the last time I went for a run. But the buzzing continued and figuring it could be the Lieutenant, I fished my phone from my pocket with a sigh.

_Two missed calls._

_Sonny Carisi._

As I looked at the screen and contemplated returning the call, I received a text message.

“Still owe you for giving away our lunch awhile back. Dinner?”

While the offer was tempting, I just wanted to zone out on the couch to Rachel Maddow and go to sleep. My body ached and I felt like being alone. I told him I appreciated the invite, but that I was staying in for the night.

A few minutes later, he responded. “Alright, suit yourself.”

Followed by, “But if you change your mind, let me know.”

My first instinct was to put my phone down and walk away. To shut out the world and distract myself with TV and take-out. But something tugged at me.

Glancing over at my empty fridge, I quickly typed out a reply.

“On second thought, sure. I’d like that.”

 

\--

 

"So, you've been with the squad for what, two weeks now? But I still don't know much about you," Sonny said, eyeing me from across the table. "I gotta admit I'm curious."

We had met at a nearby Italian restaurant and sat at a small two-top near the back. Dean Martin played through tinny speakers at low volume. He insisted I try the gnocchi, and it didn't disappoint.

"Well, what would you like to know?" I asked. He had a point. I had been a bit guarded.

"Oh, I don't know," he shrugged. "We’re partners, so it’d be nice to get to know one another. I mean, I don't even know where you're from. If you got any brothers or sisters, for instance. Or a boyfriend."

Putting down my fork, I gave him a pointed look.

"Girlfriend?" he asked, eyebrows raised and a hint of surprise in his voice.

"Some detective," I rolled my eyes. He smirked and took a bite of his ravioli.

"Well, let’s see. I grew up in Queens, and I’m an only child,” I said. “As for my relationship status… it's complicated.”

Sonny cocked an eyebrow, a sly smile on his lips. "Complicated, huh? Tell me how that works."

"Well,” I hesitated. I really hadn’t planned on sharing such messy details with anyone. "I was in a serious relationship for the last few years, but he moved out a couple weeks ago. Right when I started at SVU, actually."

"Hmm," he responded. "Doesn't sound too complicated to me. Sounds like it's done."

He's not wrong, but I wished I hadn't told him. At least, not like this. Not here.

He noticed me shift in my seat.

"Hey, I'm sorry,” he said in a more serious, sincere tone. “I know it's none of my business.”

"No, it's fine. You're right," I shook my head, looking down at the red checked tablecloth. "It really had been over for a while. It is what it is."

I tried to pass my comments off with a shrug and we sat quietly for a moment.

"You know,” he finally said, breaking the silence. “My nonna used to say that it can be better to be alone than with bad company.”

"Your nonna sounds like a smart woman."

"Yeah, she was," he paused thoughtfully. "She also taught me the secret to a perfect marinara is to not overcook it. Twenty-five minutes, tops."

He gestured to emphasize his point and I couldn’t help but smile at his effort to redirect.

"Well, maybe someday you can make it for me," I said, surprising myself as I spoke the words.

"Yeah? I think I can manage that," he said. He blushed as he smiled. "I do make a mean spaghetti."


	6. Chapter 6

The fog had started to lift. The stress of a new job. The end of my relationship. The uncertainty and loneliness and overwhelm. It was receding and I was starting to feel more secure. More like myself. 

Having dinner with Sonny had been a turning point. We had become closer. Friends, even. He made me laugh more than I had in a long time and it felt good to relax. To smile.

“You know, I got the feeling when we first started working together you didn't like me,” Sonny said, turning to me with a presumptuous smile. “What was that about?”

The streets were wet with melting snow as Sonny and I walked the few blocks from the 16th precinct to the District Attorney’s office. 

“Oh, uh.. well, I don't know,” my cheeks flushed with embarrassment as I remembered our first meeting. “I mean, you were a little.. abrasive at first.”

“So what changed?”

“I guess I got to know you.” 

He didn’t say anything, but I got the feeling he wanted me to continue. 

“I saw that you genuinely care for people and you take what you do seriously. After that, I guess you started to grow on me. A bit.” 

He looked happy with this response, but held his eyes on me for a long time, like he was on the verge of saying something. Turning the words over in his mind. 

“What about you?” I asked him. “What was your first impression of me?”

“Other than looking like you swam to the precinct?”

If my arms hadn’t been full of files I would have shoved him. I settled on a glare. 

“Okay, okay,” he responded. “I saw someone that was nervous and felt she had something to prove, but was really determined to do a good job.”

I smiled and nodded. He wasn’t wrong. 

“And now?”

“And now I see someone that’s been through hell but doesn’t give up.”


	7. Chapter 7

The Almari case was going cold and my attention was turned to other, newer cases.

"Cream and one sugar, right?" Sonny asked as he sat down on the edge of my desk, holding out a paper cup of coffee from the vendor downstairs.

"Yes," I smiled, surprised. "Thank you."

Taking the coffee from his hands, my eyes lingered on him just a moment too long. He always looked so good in that blue vest.

"Carisi, Bennett," Fin announced from his desk. "I think we got something."

Sonny and I rushed over and stood behind him, peering over his shoulder at the computer screen.

"It took us awhile to sift through all the footage, but this was taken just after 2am on the night our vic was assaulted. About one block from scene, from a traffic cam," Fin explained.

"Son of a bitch," I said, eyes fixed on the grainy footage.

The clip was short but showed a large man running from Central Park to his car, a black El Camino, and quickly jumping in the driver's seat before speeding off. As the car pulled out, the license plate was in full view.

Fin turned in his chair to face the two of us. "Could this be your guy?"

I looked at Sonny, "Only one way to find out."

 

\--

 

It was the first beautiful spring day of the year and we were two hours into our trip upstate. The windows were down and the warm sun streamed into the department-issued car.

"Let me ask you something," Sonny said. "What would you be doing instead? If you didn't become a cop, I mean."

We had tracked the license plate to John Ellis, a convicted rapist recently released from a five-year stint at Rikers. After clearing the visit with the local Binghamton police, Sonny and I had set out to pick him up.

"Oh, I don't know. My dad was a patrol officer for twenty years and I grew up wanting to be like him. It's all I ever wanted, really." I shrugged. "I guess I never seriously considered anything else."

He looked at me incredulously. Blue eyes shining in the afternoon sun. "Come on, you gotta have something."

I hesitated for a moment, embarrassed to confess. I had never shared this with anyone. Before I told him, I made him promise not to laugh.

"I think, maybe, I'd like to be an actor. You know, like theater."

"Yeah?" He glanced over at me with a smile. "I can see that. You have that whole dramatic thing going on."

"Oh, thanks," I laughed. Eager to get the subject off of me, I asked him to answer the same question.

He looked thoughtful, his eyes fixed forward. "Believe it or not, there was a time I thought I might become a priest."

He told me about Sunday mornings at St. Peter’s with its neo-Romanesque towers and arched doorways. Hymns and homily echoing through the stone halls. Finding comfort and strength in the priests who guided him when he needed it most, and the impact of their devotion and compassion and love. He told me about his dog-eared bible, and his cousins, both men of the cloth.

“And so what happened? Why didn’t you?”

“I got a different call.”

His mother had cried when he came home one month after his twenty-first birthday and told her he had taken the Civil Service exam for the NYPD. She never said a word, but he knew that she hoped he would change his mind. But he didn’t. And he’s never regretted it. He described the pride and responsibility he still feels every morning putting on his badge. The way he sees it, he was meant to be on the front lines helping people and actually making a difference. 

I asked him how law fit into this.

“That came later.”

When he enrolled at Fordham, he had no aspirations for even taking the bar -- he just hoped it would make him a better detective. He had learned a lot earning his undergraduate degree in criminal justice, but wanted more. And as time went on, he discovered that he really had a passion for it. That practicing law was just another way to stand up for the voiceless. Another way to serve. 

"Do you think you’ll ever do it full time?”

“I’ve thought about it,” he said, flicking on the turn signal and accelerating around the car in front of us. “If the right opportunity comes along, at the right time.”

Being with him felt natural. Easy. I leaned back in my seat and watched him drive, his long arms stretched out, fingers wrapped around the wheel.

For I moment I imagined a different life. That we weren't partners on a work trip, but an accomplished stage actor and respected prosecutor, running away together for the weekend. Driving out to a cabin in the country, away from all the monsters and tragic stories. Where we'd play games and laugh and look at the stars, staying up all night. Talking until the sun came up.

I had to admit, it was a nice thought.

 

\--

 

That night I couldn't sleep.

Three hours after leaving Manhattan we arrived at Ellis’ property on the northwestern edge of town. His house sat on a small lot on a street crowded with a mix of Cape Cod and traditional homes. The sort of neighborhood with shuttered windows and recessed driveways and children's bikes left out on green lawns. But Ellis’ house was different. It looked like it had been uninhabited for years. Tall yellow grass lined the cracked walkway and thick spider webs hung in a tangled mess under the front gable. 

Sonny knocked a few times, just to be sure, but there was no response.

"I guess we'll just try again tomorrow," he said as we pulled up to the motel, the sun already setting behind us.

After checking in, we made our way to the room and spread out all of our notes, poring over every word. Examining photos. Rereading statements. Trying to find any small detail that could help. But we came up empty and for all we knew, Ellis was long gone.

My chest tightened at the thought. I needed this case to be a success.

The neon vacancy sign glowed bright red outside the window and I tried to distract myself, counting the cracks in the ceiling. Listening to Sonny's breath rise and fall steadily in the bed next to mine.

I thought about how close we had grown over the last few weeks. How he spent more time at my desk than his own. How we had started to trust one another. To really know one another.

I thought about our drive. His fingers wrapped around the black steering wheel, blue eyes held on the road.

I thought about his dimples.

_Stop._

I thought about his long legs stretched out in front of him on the bed as we bounced ideas back and forth, discussing the case. 

About the cut of his jaw, and the hint of stubble on his cheek after a long day. The way his eyes felt on me. 

_STOP._

I tried to shake the vision from my mind. But his closeness was unbearable, and I only wished he was closer. Beside me. Under the covers with me. Hands on me.

Sonny shifted in his sleep, the stiff motel comforter rustling in the darkness. Turning onto my side, with my back to him, I tried my damnedest to think of something else. Anything else.

But I couldn't get him out of my head.

 

\--

 

"You sleep okay?" Sonny asked, emerging from the bathroom in a cloud of steam, wearing black slacks and an undershirt. Clean shaven and hair perfectly styled.

"Yeah, eventually," I replied looking down, embarrassed over my thoughts from the night before. I busied myself with my shoes as he slipped into a crisp white dress shirt. 

"I was out like a light.”

The early morning sun peeked through the thick curtains, turning the beige walls of the motel room a rich pink. For a moment I stopped to appreciate the quiet stillness of such an early hour, then finished packing up our case files and holstered my gun. Hoping that by the end of the day, our guy would be behind bars and we’d be knocking back drinks at the bar to celebrate. 

Sonny stood in front of the mirror to put on his tie, wearing a look of concentration as he executed the quick, practiced movements. He caught me watching, perking up one eyebrow. He didn't say anything, but I was sure I detected a smile as he stood up a little bit straighter, his fingers turning over the deep maroon fabric, pulling it tight, and adjusting the knot against his neck.

 

\--

 

Gravel crunched underfoot as we followed the driveway up to Ellis' door. No cars were parked out front and the house still looked empty, but I knocked three times anyway.

No answer.

A few minutes passed. I tried again.

No answer.

_Of course._

Sonny sighed and turned back toward the car, but I stayed for just a moment longer. Yesterday's bright sun was hidden by dark clouds and a cold burst of air whipped through my hair. It was going to be a long drive home.

I don't know what kept me on that porch, and why I didn't just follow Sonny. Maybe I was just reluctant to give up when we were this close. Maybe I just didn’t want our weekend to end.

But then I heard it.

A creak.

And then a footstep.

Breath held, I gripped my gun and slowly pulled it from its holster. 

_"Carisi,"_ I whispered, just loud enough to catch his attention. He stopped and turned and I met his eyes. I didn't need to explain. He knew.

Drawing his weapon, he moved back onto the porch. With one swift movement, he took a step, then kicked.  
An eruption of cheap wood splinters fell to the floor as the door burst open.

The house was empty. No furniture, no boxes. Not even a framed picture on the wall.

We took a step inside and the back door slammed. 

_Ellis._

Sonny pursued him through the back while I turned around out the front, hoping to head him off. Gun raised, I stalked through the dead yellow grass along the perimeter of the house. Each breath tight and controlled.

One step.

Then another.

Approaching the back of the house, I caught a glimpse of the old El Camino. It was parked under a naked Beech tree, its black paint rusted and peeling.

I continued walking, taking slow, measured strides, with my attention diverted to the car. The plates had been removed, but I was sure it was the one we had been looking for.

I took a step to round the corner, when something hit me.

Hard.

I slammed onto the ground. The impact pushed the air from my lungs and I gasped for breath, frantic and struggling against the man on top of me. His eyes wild and teeth gnashing, stinking like gin.

The gun was gone. Knocked from my grip. I grabbed at the dirt, desperately searching.

My heart pounded in my ears, breath frenzied as I saw the glint of a blade in his hand. I railed against him, my small fists thudding on his chest.

But he was already swinging and jabbing.

I didn't feel the pain at first. Just a sting. Then the hot blood rushing down my sleeve, dripping onto my face as I tried to push him off.

_Fuck._

Before he could swing again, Sonny ripped him off of me. He shoved him to the ground, kicking the knife away.  
I scrambled to my feet, calling the local cops. Between desperate pants for air, I directed them to our location. Sonny pushed Ellis' face into the dirt, his knee hard in his back, cuffing him.

_Rapid breathing._

"Are you okay?"

Sonny rushed over to me, his eyes wide. The blood had soaked through my blouse. It dripped off my fingers and puddled in the dead grass.

I turned to Sonny. Unable to speak.

_Weakness._

"You’re not okay."

His face went pale as he pushed up my sleeve revealing a deep wound, flesh pulled from bone, pulsing blood.  
I tried to bend my fingers. They wouldn't move.

_Blood pressure dropping._

Whipping off his tie, he wrapped it around my shaking arm. I couldn't help but groan as his hands tightened down, applying pressure.

"You're losing a lot of blood."

His voice was fearful and a million miles away and I tried to steady myself against him.

_Dizziness._

I started to sway and he pulled me close, helping me down onto the ground. The sirens drew near. He sat behind me, holding me tight.

"It's okay. I got you."


	8. Chapter 8

"Son of a bitch hit my tendon," I said, glancing down at my bandaged arm.” They said it would be at least six weeks until I'm healed."

"I'm just glad you're alright."

The room was quiet and still except for the steady beep of a nearby monitor and the muffled sounds of rushing nurses on the other side of the dull brown door. A muted television in the corner played CNN, the screen split between two red-faced pundits.

"And what about you?" I asked. "How are you doing?"

"Don't worry about me,” Sonny replied. “I'm not the one in the hospital bed.”

Despite the heavy medication, my entire body ached. I couldn’t look Sonny in the eye, and instead idly watched the dust suspended in the mid-morning light streaming through the cracked blinds.

"Where's Ellis?" I asked.

"He was held by local PD overnight, but Lieu's working on getting him transferred," Sonny said. "They found Heba's necklace in his house."

The news should have been a relief, but it barely registered. He looked at me with concern.

"You holding up okay?"

"Yeah. I mean, I'll be fine," I said, my gaze moving to the IV inserted into my hand, fixated on the gauze pad hastily taped to my skin. "There shouldn't be any lasting damage."

"It can be hard after, and I don't just mean the physical stuff," he said, meeting my eyes. "I know what it's like to be that close. So, just know that I'm here."

"Thank you," I replied. The steady drip of morphine warmed my body and blurred the edges of my vision, but it didn't stop me from replaying the scene countless times in my head.

"I feel like such an idiot," I confessed, tears stinging my eyes. Foot pursuits were inherently dangerous. I knew this. But I agonized over every mistake.

"Whoa, there is no way you're an idiot," Sonny leaned forward, reaching across my body, taking hold of my left hand.

"I should have followed you," I said, the tears coming harder. "I shouldn't have gone back around the front."

"No, put that out of your head," he said. "If you had done that, he would have gotten away. You did the right thing."

"You really think that?"

"Yeah. I do. What you did was brave."

"It was reckless," I corrected. "I could have put you in danger."

"But you didn't." He gently squeezed my hand.

"I don't know, maybe I'm not cut out for this."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean I suck at this,” I admitted. “I’m a bad detective and a bad partner."

"No, Emily, listen to me," he moved closer, looking into my eyes. "You are brilliant and tough as hell. And a damn good detective, okay?"

His expression was earnest and I wanted to believe him.

"Look," he said. “Seeing them rush you into surgery was one of the scariest moments of my life. They said you'd be okay but I couldn't stop imagining what would happen if you weren't."

He paused. "That thought terrified me."

His face was serious and tired and unshaven. I realized that he was still in the same clothes he was wearing during the attack.

"But you're here. And I'm here with you," he said. "I couldn't be prouder to have you as my partner."


	9. Chapter 9

**PART TWO**

Even the simplest tasks were impossible with my dominant arm out of commission. Buttoning slacks or fastening my bra. Chopping tomatoes. Ponytails. Sonny started coming over in the evenings to help with what he could, making dinner and cleaning up. "Like good partners do."

Desk duty was torture. I hated being chained to the station, unable to do anything more useful than file reports or answer the phone. Meanwhile, Sonny was temporarily partnered with Fin to do field work. Before the attack, I had just started to find my stride. Now I felt impotent.

Still, a part of me was relieved to be on the sidelines. Even if I could jump back into the action, I wasn't sure if I was ready. Sonny was right. It was hard to adjust after an event like that. Department policy was that I had to see a shrink a couple of times before returning to duty, but it wasn't helping. She just asked how I felt and wrote me a script for sleeping pills. I could sleep but the memories persisted.

When I closed my eyes I saw Ellis on me. Smelled his breath and felt it hot on my face. I could feel the knife tearing through me like fire. The copper taste of my own blood dripping in my mouth as I tried in vain to push him away.

If Sonny hadn't been there. If he hadn't pulled him off of me...

That'd be it. I'd be done.

Long gone.

A couple weeks after I got home from the hospital, Sonny and I sat together on my couch after dinner, watching the news. I was trying to relax, but couldn’t. I was tense. Distracted. Agitated. Sensing my mood, he turned off the TV and turned to me, asking what was going on. But I was reluctant. I didn’t want him to see my weakness. My fears. My trauma.

He told me that he knew all too well what it was like to do it alone, and didn't want me to face it on my own. 

Taking a deep breath, he put his hand on my knee, brow furrowed and serious, and told me about Tom Cole. About the gun pressed to his forehead. The cold metal pushed against his skin and then the hot blood on his face. In his eyes.

He said that afterward it was like a dream that he couldn't wake up from. He spent a lot of time at church and with his family, but how could they really understand what it’s like to look death in the face? To be so close that you just accept it, because let's face it, there's no way this ends with you walking away. Then you hear the gunshot and suck in your last breath. And the next thing you know, you're scrubbing your killer's brains out of your hair.

He told me that it eventually starts to fade, but never entirely.

And then he said he understood and he would be there for me. 

Placing my hand on his, I said I’d be there for him, too.


	10. Chapter 10

"Is the coffee fresh?"

"I don't know," I said without looking up. I was so engrossed in my book I hadn't even noticed Rollins come into the break room. I barely even registered her question.

She poured a cup anyway then leaned against the counter, looking at me.

"So, how's the arm doing?" she asked.

"Uh, it's better," I responded, folding down the corner of a page and closing the cover. “It doesn’t hurt anymore, but I still have to wear this thing for a few weeks.”

I glanced down at my braced arm wrapped in a blue sling. 

“Sonny helping out at all?” she asked, trying to sound casual. 

“Yeah,” I nodded. “He’s been amazing, actually. I really don’t know how I would have handled this without him.”

“I told you he was one of the good ones.” 

Before I could respond, Sonny walked in and we both went quiet.

"Am I interrupting something?" he asked.

"No," Rollins replied with a smile. “ I was just leaving.”

"What was that all about?" Sonny asked me, watching Rollins walk back to her desk.

"Oh, nothing," I said. "Just talking about my recovery."

"Uh huh," he said, totally unconvinced. "Anyway, we just got word that Ellis' trial is set. Since you’ll be testifying, I was thinking it might be helpful if we went to court to watch another case."

"Sonny, I have testified before."

"Yeah, but not with Barba. I want to make sure you know what you’re getting yourself into."


	11. Chapter 11

"How can you watch this?" I teased. "It's so cheesy."

"Oh come on, Hill Street Blues is a classic!" Sonny replied in mock offense. "You can't tell me you didn't watch this growing up."

"No way," I said. "Before my time."

He gave me a look, then shook his head and turned back to the show.

I sat back and watched him. The pout of his lips and the slope of his shoulders, his features blue from the glow of the television.

Through my darkest moments, he was there. Keeping me together on the grass. In the hospital with dirty clothes and no sleep. In my apartment, preparing dinner and doing dishes and making me laugh more than I had in years. Holding my hand and wiping away my tears when the fear gripped me too tight.

And somehow, at some point, I had completely fallen for him. And I suspected he felt the same.

But.

No matter how I felt, he was off limits. Having feelings for him was a no-win situation. Even if they were returned, I couldn’t act on them and jeopardize my career. Our partnership. Our friendship.

So I was figuring it out. Learning how to exist in this space between friend and something more. Intimate and deep and close, but never close enough. I tried to appreciate moments like these, on the couch together. Quiet and easy.

And then his phone rang.

“Hey Lieutenant,” he said as he answered, turning to me with an exasperated expression.  
“Okay. We’ll meet you down there.”  
“Yeah, she’s here.”

As he hung up, I asked what happened.

"23-year old vic found raped and unconscious in an alley off 2nd and East 54th. She’s at Mercy," Sonny said, standing up. "Lieu wants us down there now."

 

\--

 

“Sorry to cut date night short,” Fin said, eyebrows raised as Sonny and I walked into the hospital waiting room together. We quickly exchanged an embarrassed look as we made our way over to the group.

"Okay, now that we're all here," Benson said, eying us suspiciously. “Our vic is 23-year old Jessa Goldberg. She was found unconscious and raped about two hours ago."

“Who found her? Did we get a statement?” I asked. 

“Rollins is talking to the woman who called it in now,” Benson replied. 

“And the disclosure?” 

“Not yet. The SANE is currently performing the exam. When it’s done, I want you and Carisi to do the interview.” 

 

\--

 

“I don’t know, I can’t remember,” Jessa said. She was seated on the exam table, dressed in grey sweats. Freshly showered. Her hair wet and combed. 

“That’s okay, Jessa,” I said. “What about before the attack? Do you remember anything at all? Anything strange?”

She closed her eyes hard but it didn’t stop the tears from streaming down her cheeks. 

“Yes,” she finally said. “Yes, there was a man. At the club.”

“A man? What’d he look like?” Sonny asked.

Jessa took a moment to gather her thoughts. I could just make out a ring of purple bruises on her neck, peeking out from the collar of her sweatshirt. 

“He was tall, about your height,” she nodded toward Sonny. “White with… brown hair? I don’t know. It was dark.”

“You’re doing great Jessa,” I said. “Now this man, did he talk to you?”

“No, but he was hanging around me all night. Watching from the bar,” she said. “He made me uncomfortable. That’s why I left the club so early.” 

“You were found less than a block from the club,” I said. “Did you see him follow-”

“My ring!” she gasped, holding up her bare hand. “It’s gone!” 

Her eyes were frantic, quickly welling with more tears. 

“I had a gold ring, it was my grandmother’s. He must have taken it!” 

My stomach sank as I turned to my partner. 

 

\--

 

“There’s no way it could have been Ellis,” I said. “He’s been locked up in the Tombs for weeks, awaiting trial.”

“Unless we got the wrong guy,” Sonny said, reclining in his chair and running a hand through his hair. We had been sitting at the table in the media room for hours. 

“There’s no way,” I said. 

“What, you got a better idea?” he replied. 

“Ellis was found on tape fleeing the scene. He had Heba’s necklace in his house. I don’t care how much he proclaims his innocence, he is good for that rape,” I looked around at the reports, pictures, and maps pinned up on the walls around us. “This has to be a coincidence.”

“Do you really believe that?”

“Honestly, I don’t know what to think right now,” I sighed and took a seat next to him. I went to take a drink of coffee but realized my cup was empty. “Look, Jessa had traces of GHB in her system. Heba had none.”

Maybe I was biased, but I was sure Ellis raped Heba. It had to be him. If it wasn’t… 

I didn’t want to entertain that thought. 

“Just got Jessa’s rape kit results back,” Rollins said, holding up a file as she walked into the room. Sonny and I turned to her expectantly. “No DNA but there were traces of condom lubricant. The same kind used in Heba’s assault.”


	12. Chapter 12

"Hey, you ready to go?"

Immersed in my case notes, I hadn't even noticed Sonny come up to my desk. It had been a long day. With the new evidence found in Jessa’s case, a judge had granted a continuance for Ellis’ trial. I was still sure the rapes were unrelated, but we didn’t have much else to go on. We had been diving deep into Jessa and Heba’s past, overturning every stone, trying to find something that might connect the two of them. Poring over receipts from the night club. Sifting through security footage. 

Now the precinct was quiet and dark. We were the only two left.

I looked up at him, but didn’t say anything. He furrowed his brow, posture softening and holding his eyes on me.

"Everything alright?"

"Yeah, I’m fine," I said, but words were immediately betrayed by the tears that sprung to my eyes.

"Whoa, hey," he said, setting down his bag and taking a seat next to me on the edge of my desk. "What's going on?"

I really really didn’t want to talk about it. I didn’t want to care, and I certainly didn’t want to bother Sonny with it. Especially with everything else going on. It was pathetic.

"I talked to my ex today," I finally said. "He wanted the ring back."

"Doll, I'm so sorry.”

"It's fine, it really is."

I looked up at the ceiling, taking a moment to catch my breath. Willing the tears to stop.

"I don't love him, anymore. I haven't for a long time," I began to explain, my dejection turning to anger. "I don't even care about the ring. But the son of a bitch couldn’t even call me when I was fucking stabbed. And now..."

"Hey, come here," he said, extending his arms.

I rose from my chair and stood tentatively between his knees as he wrapped his arms around me, pulling me tight against him. My face pressed against his neck and I breathed in deep, smelling his cologne. He held me like this for a long time, gently stroking my back and my hair. Telling me it was okay.

I believed him.

Eventually, we separated slightly. Just enough to look into each other’s eyes. Quiet. His hands on my waist, foreheads so close they were almost touching. Everything inside screamed out to lean forward, close the gap, to press my lips against his.

But instead, I took a step back.

"Thank you," I said, breathless, wiping my eyes. "Yeah, I'm ready to go."


	13. Chapter 13

"Objection. Relevance."

"Sustained," the judge replied. "Mr. Buchanan, please limit your line of questioning to the events pertaining to this case."

Sonny and I sat in the second row of the full gallery, watching the trial as the young victim was cross-examined. He looked so tiny, swallowed up by the gleaming wood and grandiosity of the courtroom. 

It was my first time seeing the Assistant District Attorney in action, and I could quickly see why Sonny looked up to him so much. In fact, in the days leading up to the trial, he wouldn't shut up about him. I couldn't help but find his admiration for Barba endearing, but still, despite all of Sonny's efforts to make sure I was prepared, I was a little nervous. The ADA was an intimidating figure. He was smart and self-assured, commanding the room. And he was quite the sharp dresser, too.

Sonny had taken his self-appointed task of prepping me for Barba seriously, filling me in on his background and landmark cases. Being choked with his own belt by Adam Cain. Fearlessly standing up to threats on his life. Attempting to update New York case law by prosecuting rape by fraud. He excitedly told me about the time he spent shadowing him and the work they did together on the Lewis Hodda case. How instrumental Barba's mentorship was in helping him pass the bar and find his confidence as an attorney. 

He also did his best to prep me for his demeanor, warning that he could abrupt and dismissive - but not to take it personally.

"Don't worry, he's like that with everyone.”

 

\--

 

"So Counselor, how do you think it's going in there?" Sonny asked. We had caught up to Barba busily checking his phone in the hall during a recess, dressed in a striking three-piece suit and pink silk tie.

"Closing arguments are tomorrow, and I don't expect the jury will be out for long. We have good facts on our side," Barba replied, turning away from Sonny to face me. "The Ellis case, that's yours?"

"Well, mine and Sonny's" I said, looking at my partner.

"Either way, excellent work," he said, quickly looking me up and down. "You should come by my office in the next few days so we can start reviewing your testimony."

Sonny shifted uncomfortably as Barba continued. "You've been with SVU now, for what, 6 months?"

"Yeah, about that."

"And how are you liking it?" His questions came quickly with the easy confidence of a practiced prosecutor.

"Uh, honestly, I love it. It’s hard, but gratifying."

His green eyes were fixed on me intently, his lips pulled in a curious smile.

"Sorry to interrupt Counselor, but we really do need to be going," Sonny said as he leaned in between us, with no attempt to hide the irritation in his voice.

"Of course," Barba responded, placing his hand on my arm. "You should have my number and if you don't, Carisi does. Give me a call and we'll arrange a time to meet."

“I'll do that," I smiled. "It was nice meeting you, Counselor."

"The pleasure was mine," he responded before looking back down at his phone.

I turned to leave and noticed that Sonny was already making his way down the hall toward the courthouse steps. I had to break into a jog to catch up to his long strides, my footsteps echoing in the marble hall.

"What the hell was that all about?" I asked once I reached his side. I had never seen him act like that before.

"What?" he responded.

"Don't play stupid, detective."

He didn't say anything, instead holding his burning gaze forward, quickly descending the steps and storming toward a packed cafe next door to the courthouse.

I wanted to just grab him and say it. To be honest.

_You don't need to be jealous, Sonny. For fuck's sake. It's you I want._

The words perched precariously on my tongue.

"I'm hungry,” he said, opening the cafe door with a hard swing. “Let's eat."

 

\--

 

"What's good here?"

"Eh, not much," Sonny said, his voice was still on edge as he made his way to the counter. "I'm getting the pastrami on rye."

After placing our orders, we pushed past the crowds of lawyers, clerks, and courthouse personnel to find a small table near the back. I sat awkwardly, unsure what to say. Sonny was usually the one steering the conversation, but instead he was pouting quietly on the other side of the table.

"Thanks for taking me to the trial today."

"Well, it made sense for you to go, now that you’ll be working so closely with Barba."

I shot him a look, but before I could switch subjects, he got a call. Benson. As usual.

"Copy that," he said before hanging up. I looked at him expectantly waiting for the report.

"Lieu wants us to go to the club tonight and get some eyes on the place. I guess she’s hoping our guy is stupid enough to hit the same place twice."

"Like, as patrons? Undercover?"

"That a problem?"

"Did the Lieutenant forget I'm on desk duty?" I replied, holding up my arm. I’d shed the sling weeks ago, but still wore a bulky splint.

"Well, Rollins is home sick with Jesse, so I guess you get to jump in," he said, leaning back in his chair. "We'll just sit in the back, scope the place out for a while. Easy."

He smiled and I hoped it meant he was over whatever had made him jealous earlier.

"Okay then," I said, standing up. "I'll go tell them we need our order to go."


	14. Chapter 14

Heavy bass thumped steadily, shaking the sticky table as I tugged anxiously at the neckline of my dress. Sonny and I were seated in a dark corner near the back, watching the crowd, vigilant for anything suspicious. 

Sonny was pressed up against me, his arm draped around my shoulder, playing the role of my date for the night. It was too loud to talk, but occasionally he’d turn to me, whispering into my ear. Lips brushing against my skin, sending a chill through my body.

We had been there for three hours. Three hours of unbearable closeness.

Blue and green lights rhythmically pulsed, making it difficult to clearly see the faces in the dancing, panting masses. Even then, we watched carefully as we nursed our drinks. The Lieutenant was stationed outside with Fin, ready and waiting to make the arrest if we identified our guy. But so far, he was a no show and I was eager to leave. To take off my costume and get away from all this noise.

Eyes trained on the club entrance, I felt Sonny rest his hand on my knee. 

I froze, unsure if the contact was intentional. 

_Was this part of the undercover act?_

I didn’t react, and his hand remained on my knee for a long, excruciating moment. Then he began to slowly inch up my leg. Resting at the top of my thigh.

_Does he have any idea what his touch does to me?_

The music thudded relentlessly, as my mind raced, pulse quickening. I wanted to lean into it, to part my legs, to urge his hand to continue its exploration.

My heart was pounding and I decided to go for it. I slowly, carefully spread my legs. Just slightly. Just enough.

He shifted in his seat, but kept his eyes on the crowd. 

He then started to gently stroke the inside of my thigh, slipping his fingers under the hem of my dress. His movements slow and measured, grazing the fabric between my legs. I inhaled quickly, leaning into him and rolling my hips against his hand.

But before it could go further, Sonny stopped to pull out his phone. Holding it so I could see the exchange, he quickly typed out a text.

"Been here three hours. Nothing."

Three dots appeared in the corner, followed by a response from Lieutenant Benson.

"Okay. Let's try again later."

He leaned down to whisper in my ear, voice low. "I got the squad car. Want a ride home?"

 

\--

 

The tension was palpable as we left the club, desire hanging thickly in the air between us. Sonny drove a little faster than usual, occasionally casting hungry glances in my direction.

My mind raced with anticipation, my body flooded with need, as we parked on the street in front of my building. 

He turned in his seat to face me, the orange streetlights outside washing our faces in dark shadows and amber highlights, and leaned in. His hand moved up to gently hold my chin, leather jacket creaking with the motion, and he pressed his lips against mine. Sweet and soft.

We parted and waited a moment, breath held, foreheads pressed together and hearts racing with the understanding that the dynamic of our relationship had just changed.

Blood hot and on the verge of exploding, I moved in for another kiss. This time it was deeper. Greedy. Relentless. I tangled my fingers in his hair, months of longing and aching and unspoken desire bursting to the surface.

My hand found his leg and I rubbed along the bunched fabric, kneading his thigh as he slipped the strap of my dress from my shoulder. His fingers moved down my chest, taking my breast in his hand, and I gasped as he brushed his thumb against my nipple, his touch sending a surge through my body. 

I traced my fingers along the outline of his erection, straining against his pants, before taking it firmly in my hand. He groaned in response, raising his hips and spreading his legs. As I stroked his length we kissed deeper, hungrier. Messy, wet, and frenzied. Mind racing and blind with craving.

He moaned against me as I inched my fingers up, taking hold of his zipper and slowly pulling downward.

“Wait…” he breathed. I stopped and looked at him. His lips pink, hair mussed, lids heavy. 

He took his hand off me and looked down. “We shouldn’t.”

My stomach sank as I sat back into my seat, slipping my strap onto my shoulder. I knew he was right. I mean really, what did I expect? 

I looked forward, through the windshield that had just started to steam, and nodded. Opening the car door, I stepped out into the cool spring evening and smoothed down my dress. 

"See you tomorrow, Carisi."


	15. Chapter 15

It was getting late.

The sun had set awhile ago and the squad room was quiet and empty. Sonny was sitting at his desk in front of me, hunched over a pile of paperwork, suit jacket casually hung over the back of his chair. The phones hadn't rung in hours and the lights were low.

I couldn't stop thinking about the night before. His lips on mine, the heat of his body under my hand. I hadn’t intended for it to get this bad or go this far, but it was all I could focus on. 

Taking a break from poring through case files, I watched him for a moment. His hair was loose, sleeves rolled up. He hadn't looked in my direction since Fin left an hour ago. In fact, he had been avoiding me all day.

I needed to get my mind off of it, so I got up and walked past his desk to the break room. Standing at the vending machine, I stared blankly at its options, feeling foolish and vulnerable. 

_Had it been a mistake?_

_Did he regret it?_

_Were things ruined between us?_

Before I could continue over analyzing, I heard footsteps behind me. I turned around and Sonny was standing in the doorway. Shoulders rounded and hands hidden in his pockets. 

"Hey," he said. His voice was quiet. Unsure. 

"Hi," I replied. 

"So, about last night." 

My breath caught in my throat. I knew this conversation was coming but I didn’t feel ready for it. 

"Look, I know, _we both know,_ that we can't do this," he shook his head, his face earnest. "You just got out of a serious relationship, and these work things…” 

He brought his hand up to the back of his neck, looking down. "We gotta be smart here."

The words landed on my chest with a thud.

"Yeah, of course," I said. I tried my best to look casual and unbothered. 

I knew, deep down, that it wasn't a good idea. That it didn't matter how badly I wanted him or how much I ached for him. I had to know this was coming and it was stupid to ever think otherwise.

There was no other way this could go.

"I'm sorry, doll."

"No, it's fine," I smiled, waving my hand dismissively. "Really, it's not a big deal. It was just a kiss. It didn't mean anything."

He wilted slightly, eyes flashing with hurt.

I continued, "It was mistake. We just need to put this behind us."

I didn't want to be mean. I didn't want to push him away. But I couldn't help it. 

"Yeah, I got it," he said. "Loud and clear."

I stepped around him and walked back to my desk.


	16. Chapter 16

**PART THREE**

The next few weeks moved slowly. 

Things weren’t the same after the conversation in the breakroom. Even though I couldn't get him off my mind, I knew the only option to get over it was to distance myself. We never talked about it, but he seemed to think so, too. He stopped coming around in the evenings. Stopped bringing me coffee in the morning. Even stopped coming over to my desk. 

I fell into a new routine. Nights spent alone reading and watching TV. Doing strength and mobility exercises to improve the functionality of my arm. Redecorating my apartment and trying to find a new normal. 

Occasionally I'd catch him looking at me. He'd let his hand linger on mine for a moment too long when passing over a file. Stand a little too close during a briefing. Always just enough to make me wonder, but never enough to really give me hope. 

\-- 

"Carisi, Bennett," Benson called out, standing in the doorway of her office. Her face serious, lips in a tight line. "Can I see you?" 

We stood up from our desks and followed her into her office, shutting the door behind us. 

"I just got off the phone with Barba," she said, sitting down behind her desk. She put on her glasses on and looked up at us. "Ellis' attorney is challenging the arrest, claiming an unlawful entry into his house." 

I looked directly at her, mouth agape. I was at a loss for words. 

"Lieu, this was textbook exigent circumstances," Sonny explained. He took a wide stance, putting his hands on his hips. 

"He's a convicted violent rapist and was evading police," I said, unable to stop the anger from rising. "He was seen fleeing a crime scene. He attacked me with a knife. He tried to kill me!" 

"Yes, and he is saying that he was unaware you were police and thought you were trespassing.” 

I sighed loudly, raising up my arms and looking around the room. I didn't need this. Not now. 

"The creep had it coming. We announced ourselves and he attempted to flee," Sonny added. "Lieu, it was by the book." 

"Be that as it may, this is his defense," Benson sighed, taking off her glasses and placing them on a stack of files on her desk. 

I breathed in and out slowly and tried to focus on the gold-framed picture of Noah on her desk. Anything to calm down. 

Benson continued, "The DA has dropped the rape charge.” 

"You have to be kidding me," I said in disbelief, shaking my head. I noticed Sonny looking at me, but as soon as our eyes met he turned away. "So, what now? He had Heba’s necklace in his house!" 

"He admits to possession of the necklace, but claims he got it from a mugging, not from the assault.” 

“Gimme a break,” Sonny said, shaking his head. 

Benson continued. “In exchange for his confession, he’ll serve one year.” 

She then paused, looking at me sympathetically. “Emily, Ellis didn’t attack Heba. I’m sorry this isn’t the outcome you wanted, but if we find the man that he mugged, we’ll find the real rapist.” 

I looked at her for a long moment. She was right and I hated it. 

"Are we done?" I asked. 

Benson quietly nodded and I left.


	17. Chapter 17

It was late in the afternoon when I received a call that our suspect in a recent break-in rape case had been picked up on an unrelated warrant in Trenton. I had already started the paperwork to have him extradited to Manhattan when Sonny returned to the station after a day spent out interviewing witnesses.

I walked over to his desk to share the news with him. Even though there were still a few technical hoops to jump through, apprehending him was still a major win.

"So, you want to go get a drink or something? Celebrate?" I asked. I knew it was a longshot. Things between us hadn’t gotten better and we hardly talked anymore. But I missed him.

"Oh," he said, clearly caught off guard. "I can't. Got plans tonight. Some other time?"

_Oh._

"Yeah, sure," I said, nodding and forcing a smile.

_I guess this is how it is going to be from now on._

I went back to my desk, deflated. 

I should have known better. 

 

\--

 

Not long after I approached Sonny, he left for the night with a blonde woman I hadn’t seen before. I tried not to focus on it and instead buried myself in my work. I was at the station alone. The solitary light above my desk my only company.

At this point I had reread Ellis’ statement regarding the mugging dozens of times. I nearly had it memorized.

After he got out of prison, he couldn’t find a job with a violent conviction on his record so he took to petty crime to survive. He had been in Central Park that night prowling for a victim when he came across his mark. Tall, white. Distracted. He walked up behind him and told him to empty his pockets, holding a knife to his back, and after he handed over his wallet and a necklace, Ellis let him go. Afterward, he tried to pawn the necklace but learned that it was worthless. 

Holding my head in my hands, I looked down at my desk. There were no reported muggings in the area that night and Ellis didn’t get a good look at the man’s face. The wallet had five dollars in singles but was otherwise empty. No ID. No credit cards. 

Another dead end. 

“Detective Bennett?” 

The voice startled me and I quickly looked up. 

“Heba, what are you doing here?” I asked standing up from my desk and walking over to her. She looked spooked.

“The officers downstairs said you were still here. I hope it’s okay I came.”

“Did something happen? Are you alright?” 

“Yes,” she said. She shook her head and started to cry. “No. I don’t know.” 

“Sit down, let’s talk,” I gently placed my hand on her back and guided her over to my desk, pulling up a chair. “What’s going on?” 

She tucked a lock of hair behind her ear and exhaled. “It’s Garrett.” 

“What do you mean?” 

She reached into her pocket, pulling out a plastic sandwich bag. She hesitated a moment, then handed it over to me. “I found this in his apartment.” 

A gold ring.

“I put it in the bag to preserve evidence.”

“That was really smart, Heba,” I said, my eyes still held on the jewelry. “Does he know you have this?” 

She shook her head. “No.”

 

\--

 

“I just got off the phone with Barba,” Lieutenant Benson said as she emerged from her office. She looked tired. I guessed that she was already in bed when I called her. “Given the questionable custody of the ring, he wants more probable cause before submitting the warrant request. Is Jessa on her way?”

“Yeah, she should be here any minute,” I responded, looking down at my phone to check the time. 10:45pm. 

“Let’s lean on the roommate again as well,” she added. 

“Rollins and Fin are already on their way to pick him up. He’s working the late shift at the Belvedere.”

“Okay, good. And where’s your partner?” she asked. 

“Uh, I don’t know,” I replied, frowning as I recalled the image of him leaving earlier that night with the mystery woman. “I haven’t checked in with him.”

“Well call him and get him down here,” she said, clearly annoyed and her hands on her hips. She turned to go back into her office, then stopped to face me. 

“I don’t know what is going on between you two, but figure it out. This is likely to blow up fast and we need all hands on deck.” 

 

\--

 

Jessa arrived a few minutes later. Nerves rattled and wiping her eyes. I escorted her to the Lieutenant’s office.

“Did you find the man who raped me?” she asked, taking a seat on the grey couch opposite Benson’s desk. 

“We think so,” I said, sitting down next her. “But first we need you to look at these pictures.” 

I handed her an iPad loaded with photos of men fitting the rapist’s description. Tall. White. Brown hair. 

“Let me know if you see the man that was watching you that night in the club,” I explained. “And take all the time you need.” 

She drew in a breath and balanced the device in one hand, swiping with the other. Almost instantly she froze. 

“This is him.”

She had stopped on Garrett’s mugshot from his assault arrest a few years back. 

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, absolutely,” she nodded, her eyes fixed on the image. “He looks a little younger here, but this is definitely him.” 

“Would you be willing to testify to that?” 

She nodded. 

I looked up at Benson. She was already back on the phone calling the ADA. 

 

\--

 

“You told us that after Heba left that night, Garrett stayed at home and the two of you watched another movie. But that’s not true, is it?” 

Sonny leaned over the table, eye to eye with the roommate. Dave. The one who provided the earlier alibi to Fin and Rollins. The alibi that had us completely fooled and chasing wild geese for months. 

“Am I under arrest?” he asked nervously, eyes darting to the mirrored window I was standing behind. 

“That depends. You ever heard of obstruction of justice?” 

Dave fidgeted in his seat, tugging at the worn out cuff of his blue sweatshirt, as Sonny stared him down. He had arrived at the station nearly an hour after I called him. I tried not to think about what took him so long, and instead focused on the exchange.

“Look, I don’t want to be in trouble. I didn’t realize what was going on,” he finally said. “I’ve known Garrett for years.” 

“No, I get it,” Sonny said, reclining in his seat, voice casual. “He’s your friend. He asks you to do him a solid, and you do it. No questions.” 

Sonny paused, then continued. “But right now, you need to tell us what really happened. Unless you want to be charged as an accessory after the fact.”

Dave hesitated, bouncing his leg under the table. Chewing on his lip. 

“Okay,” he started. “They had been at it all night, arguing about something. And then Heba left, and Garrett did too, a few minutes later. I just thought he was out cooling off. They fight all the time, so I’m used to it.” 

“And when did he ask you to lie for him?” 

“The next morning,” Dave admitted, burying his hands in his pockets. Still tapping his foot. “He told me to say I was with him all night if anyone asked.”

“Did he say why?” 

“I guess that night she was attacked in Central Park. He thought it might look bad if he didn’t have anyone to back him up on what he was doing that night, given their past,” He looked down. “I never thought he actually had something to do with it.” 

“You mentioned that they fought a lot. About anything in particular?” 

“I don’t know, they fought about everything,” Dave brought his hand up to run it through his hair, shaking his head. “Garrett hated that they had to keep their relationship secret from her dad. Drove him crazy, actually.” 

“Crazy, huh? How crazy?” 

“Like, he’d go into rages. Throw things around the apartment. Call her a stuck-up bitch,” he said. “I don’t know, I guess the whole thing made him feel inadequate.” 

“What about that night?”

“They had been drinking, and it always gets bad when they drink. Everything seemed okay at first, and then he flipped out on her. She had some family thing that weekend and he wasn’t invited,” he said, then looked down. “Holy shit. He did it, didn’t he?”


	18. Chapter 18

The case moved quickly after that night. 

The ring was inadmissible since the chain of custody couldn’t be verified, but coupled with Jessa’s positive ID and Dave blowing open his alibi, we had enough for an arrest warrant. And then, after a few hours in the interrogation room with Sonny needling him about his resentment toward Heba, he cracked. 

The first rape was out of anger. All the pent up rage and desire to assert his control bursting to the surface as he followed Heba through the freezing park that night. After that, he realized how easy it was and how much he liked it. How it fed his need for power and dominance. So, he bought some GHB online and went to the club to seek out his second victim, sitting at the bar and waiting for his opportunity. He slipped the drugs into Jessa’s drink when she wasn’t looking, then followed her out of the club. Attacking her in a nearby alley. 

His signed confession sent him to Rikers for 13 years. He’d be eligible for parole in five. 

Meanwhile, Sonny and I hardly interacted anymore unless it was work related. But it was better that way.

Pretending was hard. Acting like everything was okay and that I hadn't noticed he had moved on. That I didn't still turn into a puddle when he looked at me. That I didn't hate coming home to my dark, empty apartment every evening. Eating Chinese leftovers for the third night in a row, alone and in front of the TV.

I finished up a report and looked over at him. I had tried to distance myself, but my heart still ached.

He sat at his desk quietly, eyes down at the stack of papers in front of him. Sleeves rolled up, hair slightly mussed, and hand fast at work. Filling out forms. Then I noticed the new framed picture sitting on his desk. The blonde from before.

_It must be getting serious._

I had nothing waiting for me at home, but I decided that I'd rather be alone. Standing up, I grabbed my bag and walked to the elevator. Anxious for a change of scenery.

"Wait-"

His voice. It sent a jolt through me, and I stopped and turned around to see him stuffing his unfinished paperwork in his desk drawer.

"I'm done too. I'll walk you out."

 

\--

 

He opened the precinct door and we stepped out into the warm summer evening, the air thick with the scent of blossoming magnolias. Standing awkward and silent, we both looked down at our feet unsure what to say.

Finally, I wished him a good night and turned to leave, eager to get home and forget about the day.

"Emily," he called after me. I stopped and faced him. "I don't know if this is out of line, but I was wonderin', do you want to get dinner with me tonight? You know, if you're free."

This was unexpected. For a moment I paused and studied him. His tall silhouette against the orange sky, the last light of the day. Unsure how to interpret his invitation.

"Oh, yeah, forget it," he said with a dismissive wave of his hand.

"No," I said. "I would really like that."

"Yeah?" He looked relieved. "How does spaghetti sound?"

"Amazing."

"Be at my place around 9?"

"I'll be there."

He nodded and turned to leave, looking back over his shoulder with a smile as he strode away.

I tried not to get my hopes up, but who was I kidding. I walked the two blocks to the nearest subway station, smiling at the white petals lining the sidewalk. Grinning like a fool in love.


	19. Chapter 19

"I think you said once that you like Malbec," Sonny said, bent over a pot of stewed tomatoes. Another pot next to him rolled with boiling water. "I don't know much about Argentine wines, so I hope that one is okay."

Eyeing the label, I smiled. "It's perfect."

As Sonny continued preparing dinner, I walked into the living room. The lights were low and a police scanner chattered in the corner. I had only been to his apartment once before, and it was a quick visit. Certainly not long enough to really explore.

I stood at his bookshelf, admiring the scores of books on display. Black's Law Dictionary. Ethical Dilemmas in Criminal Justice. Oh, and was that a Walter Briggs first edition? I'd have to ask about that later.

I breathed in deep, savoring the aroma of garlic and basil, and my eyes wandered over the framed memories hanging on the walls. 

Sonny standing with his parents at his academy graduation in his dress blues, smile wide. 

Scrawny and blonde teenage Sonny in head to toe orange and blue, beaming next to Mr. Met at Shea Stadium. 

Sonny in front of an old white rowhouse, laughing at something out of frame. His arm around a woman. The blonde.

My stomach dropped.

_Oh._

_It must be more serious than I thought._

My cheeks grew hot with embarrassment and I suddenly felt foolish about my hopes for this night. About the little black dress I was wearing. The dabs of perfume I put on my wrists and behind my ears. My shaved legs.

_What was I thinking?_

 

"Hey Sonny," I called out, unable to take my eyes off the picture. Trying my best to sound merely curious. "Who's this?"

He stepped away from the stove, drying his hands on a towel, and walked over to me. "Oh, Bella?"

I exhaled. _His sister._ Of course.

 

\--

 

"I think your nonna was onto something. This marinara is perfect," I told him, twirling the noodles with my fork. “I have to wonder, though. All those nights you came over and made dinner, why didn’t you ever make this?” 

“Oh,” he blushed. “I guess I was saving it.” 

A single candle sat on the table as we ate, the warm light dancing between us as we talked. We had picked up right where we left off, quickly falling back into our old rapport. Easy. Comfortable. By the time he stood up to clear our dishes, my face ached from laughing so much.

Damn I had missed him.

 

\--

 

After dinner I sat down on the couch, running my hands down the front of my dress, smoothing out the wrinkles. Sonny sat next me to me, his knee pressed against mine. For a moment I sat comfortably in the silence, looking at him. Admiring the angles of his profile. The soft pink of his lips. The silver shocks of grey in his hair.

"So," he took a deep breath then turned to me. "I wanted to talk to you about something."

My heart skipped.

"I have an interview next week. Actually, a second interview," he explained. "With the Brooklyn ADA."

I nearly choked on my wine.

"Wow, congratulations! That's huge," I replied, then glanced down at my glass. The meaning of his words hitting me hard. "So, this means you're leaving SVU?"

"Well, nothing's final yet," he said. His eyes met mine. "But yeah, I think it's time."

"Okay," I nodded, forcing a smile. "I'm happy for you. I know you worked really hard for this."

I was proud of him. Really. This was his dream and he deserved it. I wanted to shout in excitement and give him a big hug and celebrate. But selfishly, I also didn't want to lose my partner. No matter how strained things had become.

I looked at him again. His shoulders tense and brows knitted with nerves.

"There's something else."

He sat for a moment, quiet and still, his eyes fixed on the floor. My stomach was in knots and I took another sip of my wine, preparing for whatever was coming next.

"I don't know if you want to hear this or not. And I probably have no business saying this, but I can't put it off anymore," he said. "Every day I look at you and I tell myself that I'm gonna tell you, and I don't."

My heart pounded in my chest as he looked at me, his face open and earnest and vulnerable.

"Emily, I can't get you out of my head, and I can't pretend anymore. I need you in my life. I miss watching bad TV on your couch and cooking you dinner and staying up all night talking to you."

He paused and took my hand. 

"I love you. I'm in love with you. And I understand if you don't feel the same way but I think you do.”

My breath was held and my mind was racing and he looked at me expectantly, waiting for my response. I never really expected this. To be in this position. To hear him say those words.

When a minute passed and I still hadn't responded, he looked down, nodding his head and voice quiet. "Okay. Yeah, I get it. I know I screwed it up."

I didn’t know what to say, so I leaned forward and kissed him, my hand tracing up the silk fabric of his tie and taking his jaw in my hand.

I pulled back. His blue eyes searched mine.

"Sonny, I love you."

It was nearly a whisper. A confession meant for only his ears. And as the words escaped, they lifted the weight from my chest I had been carrying for months. 

“Really?”

I nodded, biting my lip. Cheeks red. 

Barely able to contain his smile, he drew me in for another kiss. This time deep and hard and slow. 

_Finally._

We stayed like this for a long time, bodies pressed together, hands on one another. There was nothing to rush; we had all night and I wanted to savor each sensation. The softness of his lips. His hands on my waist and the taste of his kiss. His scent. Spice and musk. I breathed it in deep, my hands grazing over the fabric of his shirt. 

I leaned back on the couch, allowing him to settle on top of me. Feeling his weight and his need as his arousal grew, pressed firmly against my leg. The candle on the table nearby flickered, the wick low. 

His hands moved up my thigh and under my dress, lingering in between my legs. His fingers traced the outline of my swollen lips through the thin fabric and then hesitated, looking at me for approval to continue. I pushed my hips against his hand, begging for more. 

Pushing my underwear to the side, he slid in one finger, then two, and I gasped, shuddering with the sensation of him inside me. He moved slowly at first, the couch upholstery rough against my skin, lips locked and breathing deep. 

He then built up to a faster pace, grinding himself hard against me, my body arched upward, toward him, as an electric shock moved through me like a wave. 

“Sonny, please…” I pleaded, nearly losing it as he fucked me with his fingers. His touch was everything I had craved, but I desired more. I felt like a string pulled tight and I needed to relieve the burning ache inside. 

He pulled me into another kiss, his eyes dark with desire, and then rose off the couch. I did the same and he took my hand in his, leading me to his bedroom. Legs weak and head swimming. 

 

\--

 

We stood together at the foot of his bed, kissing. Heart bursting and reverent, in a dream. Eager to finally discover one another. 

Tossing his shirt to the ground, I quickly unbuckled his belt as his hands roamed up my back, taking hold of the clasp of my dress and slowly pulling the zipper down. It fell away, sliding down my hips and puddling around my feet. Already pushed past all inhibitions, I stood open and bare. Completely vulnerable. 

His eyes, those blue eyes I loved and longed for, were on me. Devouring me. 

He leaned down and kissed me again, raw and urgent, as I slid my hands down his back, skin on skin. Learning the edges and valleys of his body, the taper of his hips, the curve of his ass. Gripping tightly, greedily, craving every inch of him. This body I had yearned to touch. To know. And now here he was. 

We crawled onto the bed, our skin hot against the crisp, new sheets, as he trailed his lips down my neck, across my collarbone to my bare breasts, hungrily nipping at my skin. Showering me with pent up kisses.

He kissed my sides, down my stomach, his hands parting my legs as his lips traced along the crease of my thighs. And then his mouth was on me, his tongue pressing against my clit, drawing circles that brought raw moans from my throat. Breath uneven and ragged.

“Yes, Sonny,” I gasped, my hips rolling forward, my legs tightening around him, drawing him closer. His breath hot against me. “Like that.” 

It didn’t take long before I gripped the sheets, head thrown back. Coming hard and moaning his name. I laid panting and senseless as he ran his fingers over the sensitive skin on the inside of my thighs before climbing on top of me to reunite our lips. 

My mind was racing but I urged it to slow down. To fully experience the moment. Every sensation. The feeling of his body on mine, long and lean. The dip between his clavicle and neck, the crease in his brow. The creak of the bed frame beneath us and the fullness in my chest. 

But the slow, smoldering heat within was steadily building into a raging fire and I was desperate to feel him inside me. He let out a needy groan as I wrapped my hand around his cock and began to gently stroke him, positioning him at my wet entrance. My heart drummed steadily in my chest as I tensed with expectation.

He pushed in agonizingly slowly. Deliberately. Controlled. Teasing out the moment. It was unbearable and unreal and utterly worth the wait. I tightly squeezed my legs around him and he began to move in and out steadily. 

We locked eyes and I felt a rush. An intimacy I had never felt before. We were as in-sync as ever, with no need for words or direction. 

He soon quickened the pace, interlacing his fingers with mine, and I moaned against his neck. Breathing in his scent. Running my tongue along his jawline as he cried out for more. It was rhythmic and intense and heavy, each thrust sending a bolt of pleasure through my body. A firestorm building at the base of my spine.

The pace grew faster still and he drove into me hard, rough. Our bodies slick with sweat, skin slapping, breath hitched. I was on the edge, inches from climax, gasping his name. Losing all control. He held me tightly, landing a searing kiss on my lips as I twisted my fingers in his hair. 

The orgasm ripped through my body, my hips stuttering and pressing hard against his, crying out. Fingers digging into his back to pull him tighter against me. He kept pumping but soon came as well, tensing as he released inside of me with a groan, slowly stopping, pressing his forehead against mine. 

 

\--

 

“Wow,” he said, breathless as he rolled over. He raised up one hand, resting it on the pillow above his head, and pulled me close with the other. I softened against him, laying my head on his chest as it rose and fell, and he lazily traced a finger down my arm. 

He stopped when he reached my scars.

“Does it hurt?” he asked softly.

“No,” I shook my head. “Not anymore.” 

He leaned down to kiss the top of my head, then held me tighter. We laid together like this for a long time. Bodies buzzing and skin flushed. My ear tuned to his heartbeat. Fingers stroking the rough hair on his chest. No words. No pressure. Just… together. 

After a while, Sonny broke the silence. 

“You like pancakes?”

“What?” I responded, stifling a laugh at his non-sequitur. 

“I was just thinking about what to make us in the morning,” he said. I couldn’t see his face, but I knew he was smiling. I smiled too.

“Pancakes sound perfect,” I replied.


End file.
